Starter culture received, transported by Av & CM A. Containment protocols in place. Ley line tap tmrw while CM A on hand to assist.
* * *
“CM A” had to mean one of the Coalition councilmembers, and diverting energy from the ley lines supported Lowe’s theory that the site’s purpose seemed to be creating a wellspring.
She half-turned, her mouth opening to tell him of what she’d found… and then her brain caught up. How quickly she’d grown accustomed to the idea of sharing things with him. Having a partner in this endeavor. A twinge in her chest arose at the thought. How long would it take him to get back to town? He’d be faster without her there to slow him down. And when he arrived, what then? Once his duty here was done, he would return home. As would she. There was nothing that bound them together.
You care, I know you do. You care about me.
Silly, sweet ranger. Thinking the best of her. That it was in her to be good, to be happy. To be content with the kinds of things everyone else seemed to care about. To be one of those people who could be happy in the now instead of always striving for something more. Calya, always so ambitious and reckless and untrustworthy, she didn’t know how to enjoy the little things. She didn’t even know how to define them. Hadn’t known such things since she was a child, if then. It was sad, really, the speed and ease with which the memory of simple pleasures had left her, replaced by the drive to matter, to leave some mark on the world.
Insatiable… and alone. It hadn’t bothered her before, but now?
Calya shook her head. There’d be time to indulge in a proper wallow later. Was it truly even wallowing if she was right, too?
Whoever had kept these hidden notes must’ve known what they were doing at the site was deeply illegal. Perhaps even criminal, for she read on and found logs of correspondence with Brint, as she’d dearly hoped she would. Estimates for cleanup of tainted ground. Brief mentions of people—only initials—falling sick.
The loose papers were Anadae and Ezzyn’s joint paper on the design and use of their containment wards. In the margin, a scrawled note read ES/ON plant = preventative. Curative in concentrated blight. E trying to obtain.
Her breath caught. This was it. Her incontrovertible proof. The makings of it, anyway. If she could find the author, even better. But the log would lead her to the experiments, the sickened—poisoned—people. The Coalition had admitted to entertaining the idea of working with the Eyllic Empire to adapt the poison, but they’d denied ever going through with it. The Empire had reneged on the deal, refusing to share their secret of how to make a wellspring, and so the Coalition had balked at dabbling with poison.
Perhaps they’d simply decided to forge ahead on their own.
Engrossed in her thoughts, Calya didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until they were close.
Too soon to be Lowe returning with help. Grabbing the journal log and a handful of the seals, Calya bolted for the door on the other side of the office. She burst through it?—
—straight into an ironclad grip. She struggled, kicking at her assailant’s legs, her head whipping forward and up in an attempt to gain any advantage.
She was swung against the wall. Twice. Hard enough to leave her stunned, her legs buckling.
“Easy there, Erv. She’s even more trouble for me if she’s dead.”
A hand reached for her face, fingers glowing with gold light. Darkness crept into Calya’s vision as the fingers pressed against her forehead.
The last thing she saw was Brint fucking Avenor frowning down at her.
“You should’ve left it alone, Caly. I warned you not to pry.”
Chapter Twenty-One
No matter how hard he tried, Nocren couldn’t convince his legs to move faster. He trudged away from the underground cave, the wellspring project… Calya.
She’d made her choice. It wasn’t him. She would never choose him over her career, her company—the only thing she’d ever deemed fit for love. He’d never stood a chance, and the wind had shown him as much. Warned him over and over again of the change Calya would bring. The change she’d bring about in him, slowly lowering his guard. Worming her way in, even though he’d always known better than to open himself up for such pain. He’d thought he could keep any attachments at bay.
He was wrong.
The bitter realization did nothing to stem the sense of failure that plagued him, that slowed his feet, urging him to go back. He hadn’t tried hard enough to convince her. Hadn’t explained well enough how the wind worked, or the extent of the danger it had imparted to him. If he had, Calya would’ve seen how reckless her vendetta against the Coalition and Avenor was. How flawed her risk assessment had been.
Or was he wrong to have thought he could? That what he’d seen was true? Had he fallen into old traps again, succumbed to guilt and stress like a novice diviner—let his bias turn to fear and not seen how tainted the images were in turn?
It wouldn’t have mattered, his bitter mind supplied. Her ambition was always going to trump your words.
Natural light shone up ahead, heralding the entrance to the cavern. Nocren slogged onward; he just needed to get above ground and hope the horses hadn’t wandered off too far. The open air would slap sense into him, and he desperately needed it. There were messages to be sent. No doubt the Rhellian king would dispatch ships to investigate right away. Ezzyn Sor’vahl was likely setting the ocean on fire at that very moment in his haste to reach the Landing.
Nocren needed to inform Captain Malek’ko of his findings. The Sentinels and the Order of Sylveren would need to move quickly if they were going to claim authority over the site. What remained of it. Nocren had every intention of destroying it, just as he’d said. But he would need backup in securing what remained and to keep the Coalition at bay. They were already in flight, perhaps to set up in yet another location. He couldn’t let them get too entrenched.
At least his mission could be considered a success. The murky circumstances and lack of communication regarding the Sylveren researchers had only been the start. Even if they never found Matthias and got his confirmation, there was the attempted wellspring. The abandoned site. The village where the others were treating the victims, no doubt sickened from runoff or some other evil seeping out of the Coalition’s experiments here.
